


Warmer

by Leotto



Category: Long Gone Days (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Guitar, Healing, Music, Recovery, Singing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:55:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25663213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leotto/pseuds/Leotto
Summary: Even the most responsible adult needs time to recover.
Kudos: 11





	Warmer

The sound reverberates behind his eyelids. He opens his eyes and see the larger than life shadow, being cradled in his mother's arms. She looks so big that she is like the world to him. He can't really see her face but knows that she is smiling. He walks towards her on his wobbly feet, without managing to trip himself. He raises his short unwieldy arms towards the warm vibration that sounds like a sunlight on a Sunday. It pauses and mother's hand is in his hair. It's large, a little calloused, but gentle. He leans into it, embracing this memory deep into his soul.

Ivan looks up from where he sit with his guitar on his lap. The varnished wood is shiny from loving use and care. The strings are sparkling with wear, but not damaged. He runs his fingers along the string and hears the murmur of a song waiting to spill over. He loves music; and there are also days when he needs music, especially a song from his mother's guitar. He takes a deep breath and let his fingers play out the memorized dance they know so well. It's a lullaby his mother used to play for him. It's not only music, but a magic that takes him back to the world where she could protect him from all the evils of the world.

He lets himself drift in to the warmth, and away from the cold weight that hangs heavily on his shoulders. The nagging whispers at the back of his mind that reminds him of the things that he isn't proud of, slowly gets drowned out. The concern for his loved ones he carry like a brand on his back is soothed.

He sings.

The words like spells that wards off bad memories tumbles from his lips and fills the room. Soft and calming melody carried by his deep voice is cradling his worries one by one and tuck them into a bubble. Soon they are flying away from him, until they pop into nothingness.

He lets out his breath and feels the muscles in his arms and shoulders melt into the instrument he is playing, held together by the strings of the tune. Note by note and word by word, Ivan returns to his memory with his mother to find his center again; to remember why he is doing this again; to remind himself that he is alright. Just as his mother held him with her music all those years ago.

His fingers stop. The time stills as the warmth of the memory has not yet dissipated from the room. He sighs and caressed the guitar lovingly. He carefully puts the instrument away and exits the room.

He will be alright for another day, as long as he has this.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, Liz! For sprinting with me!


End file.
